


Una Familia

by aseyaseyakiya



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: AU where the gang watch HH together, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, THE CAPTAIN HAS WAR TRAUMA AT THE START SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL, TW- trauma mentions, The Captain is fun to write idk, also fun fact this was supposed to be a one shot, as is a dramatic Thomas, but it’s all fine towards the end, god this was complex to write im not making such a long fic ever again vnjvbje, i have such a great plan for the ending, its not a sad fic, the plot of this changed so many times jfc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aseyaseyakiya/pseuds/aseyaseyakiya
Summary: The Captain realises there’s more to the residents of Button manor than he’d noticed over the years.He likes it.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 59





	1. Loud Nights, Louder Days

**Author's Note:**

> TW- Mentions of Trauma at the start
> 
> also i’m sorry Cap love you

The Captain gave up; he couldn’t sleep and that was a bloody fact he’d have to deal with. 

Which, to be honest, made him feel slightly grateful for being dead. Because, when you’re dead, you don’t feel physical exhaustion, since both your soul and body are in an eternal rest, so no one would be able to tell that you haven’t slept for the past 4 days for more than an hour. But, even if you didn’t show physical signs of extreme exhaustion, like the bloodshot eyes, then the rest would certainly be able to tell from the physical effects of mental lag because of said exhaustion. Because your neurological wiring could have ended the moment you died but noooooooo. It just HAD to stay, huh?! Couldn’t be left alone. No- you still have to be irritated by everyone constantly asking you if you’re okay, and why ar-

Captain shook his head, dismissing all his thoughts. Clearly, irritation had sneakily replaced his exhaustion. Indeed, for one thing, The Captain was glad that he was dead. Sure, the others might notice all this irritation, and perhaps ask why, but, if the Captain had to be completely honest with himself, he knew that they’d (probably) not be too concerned, since he always seemed irritated about something or other- more often than not at something that one of the other ghosts had done or said (the former most of the time being Julian). Of course, Katherine might notice his extra grouchiness (Captain couldn’t help help but admire her observation skills; he often wondered why it was so good) and ask him, but he could just lie to her and give her a vague reason for it, as bad as he felt to deceive the kind but naive soul. Julian would just continue to make fun of him, probably. The rest...who knew. Their reactions oftentimes varied. No matter; whatever their reactions might be, The Captain knew that his reactions to his own problems would be, well, the death of him- he couldn’t lie to himself. His nightmares would always get him shaking.

Always.

And there was no way to stop them.

The Captain sighed out loud and proceeded to simply let himself untense, letting his arms fall to his sides on the mattress and his legs to separate oh so slightly. He stared up at the ceiling, letting his mind wander.

Unfortunately, it decided to wallow in his war trauma. 

In the silence of the night and on the black canvas that was the night-veiled ceiling, his eyes projected the old memories of loud machine guns, firing mercilessly at the Allied troops, with no care for the life of that person. This idea led to one of many families losing their fathers and wives, accompanied by the sound of their screams, which replaced their final words, as the colour drained out of their eyes and their limbs fell limp at their sides. Chests covered in soot, dust...and their blood. Oozing out of the bullet wound, the only thing about them moving. Soaking their uniforms fully. 

...It hurt to think of these things. What made the Captain feel even worse was that all he could do was watch, fighting alongside the rest, hoping that those unfortunate souls didn’t die in vain.

The Captain brought his hand up to his face to stop the tears from falling, before bringing both hands to his ears to cut off all the phantom noises from his brain, trying not to break out into a panic attack. Lying there in the dark, with even darker thoughts on his mind, The Captain lay there, shaking, waiting for his death day to approach.

-

The first few rays of dawn were what woke the Captain from his inexistent slumber, dragging him into the day which promised him an hour or two of replays of his death. Sure, that mightn't sound that bad, but really, after being dead for more than 50 years, it was just annoying and frankly, unnecessary. Over the years, though, The Captain had also come to the revelation that no matter how annoying the rest might be, they were pretty entertaining- which, he had to admit, did help him take his mind off things. 

That day was no different- by the evening, the day had panned out like any other, with the addition of The Captain wallowing for a bit. Which was a good thing, otherwise he’d have to miss Julian getting drop-kicked by Fanny for swearing in front of Kitty. The same day brought Thomas wailing like a banshee about Romeo and Juliet- cursing Shakespeare for killing off Mercutio (“The man was a brave, charming fellow! That beef-witted playwright had no right!”), Mary yelling at Alison for cutting open a pineapple (“Yous don’t eats it! It bes a sign of wealths!” “Mary. It’s a pineapple.”), and Robin shorting out the all the lights for an hour after sunset. 

A typical day at Button House really.

With the power back on an hour later, (Bless Mike and his repairing skills) the general evening set-up was present in the living room- Robin and Julian playing chess, Kitty talking Fanny, Mary, and Pat about Georgian clothing, (Thomas was there, occasionally telling the rest about the Regency’s clothing, somehow still sulking about Romeo and Juliet) The Captain simply sitting and chatting with Humphrey, his body having found his head. One of the peaceful moments you got in Button house. The Captain always felt happy for these moments.

Until the loudest, most ear-piercing screech rang throughout the house, shrill and strong. 

It snapped each and every of the resident dead out of their rapt attention, the room falling dead quiet instantly, leading everyone to stare into the blank space of the direction of the sound, where a very jumpy Alison appeared only moments later. Running past them in a flash, the Captain could only make out a very excited smile on her face before she ran past, ignoring the various questions being fired at her by the ghosts. Every ghost stayed their ground as they stared at Alison calling out to a missing Mike, telling him to get downstairs, and then said something about CDs and popcorn before once again turning around and running in the direction of their bedroom, exiting the room, pursued by the rest of the ghosts. 

They followed her into her and Mike’s room, where Alison turned on the TV, before proceeding to crack open a CD case and gingerly remove the disc from inside it. She placed it on the disc tray, which seemed to heighten her excitement even more- if that was possible, the Captain thought in amusement. She was already at a different height of excitement, one that he doubted he’d ever seen before in anyone. As she stood up, a smile was still on her face, she was immediately bombarded by all of the ghosts at the same time. It seemed that she was even more excited than the Captain had predicted- usually she’d have yelled at them in exasperation before telling them to speak one at a time- but today, somehow, she did the latter without the yelling.

“One at a time- Pat, go!” she said, pointing at him.

“Well, uh, what’s that disc thing you’re holding?” he asked, voice full of curiosity.

“It’s called Horrible Histories- something I’m proud to call my childhood,” she said, getting into her excited mood again. 

Kitty raised an eyebrow.

“But…” she started, “History? As a Child?” she asked softly before trailing off. At this point, Mike entered the room- popcorn in hand, a smile on his face as he noticed the box in Alison’s hand. 

With a glance at Mike and a cheeky smile to the ghosts, she turned to the TV with child-like joy, and turned back to them, saying one thing:

“History- but horrible. Gory, but amazing. Weird, but funny.” She said, gesturing to the blanket that’d been spread out on the floor.

The Captain and the rest, clearly wondering why that’d make Alison so happy, joined her on the floor.


	2. Love, the Buttons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, opening the doc: alright, chapter 2! i should be done this month, 1000+, here i go!  
> me, three months later, today, putting the final touches to the 2715 words fic: I AM SO TIRED FKJB  
> overall, i had so much fun with the writing!! i hope you guys like it!

The Captain hadn’t really expected the evening to go in the direction it currently was going.

In hindsight, perhaps it was a little foolish to expect that a show about history wouldn’t recreate the war- no matter the age range it catered to.

The Captain stood there, staring at the secret he had buried. Looking on’t, his dead heart filled with a feeling, a sensation he hadn’t known in decades.

The uncanny feeling of _sorrow_.

It swoll up in him like a balloon being filled with too much helium- ready to explode at any given minute. 

All he could do was to _stare_. Standing there- alone- in the garden, in the...ah, dead of the night. All was quiet; not a rodent’s squeak nor an owl’s hoot to be heard. The Captain let out the most rueful sigh he’d heard in decades. 

He was angry. Angry that he had to witness the murder. Angry that he couldn’t stop it. Angry that he failed to protect. Angry he had to see everyone he cared about fade away, never to be seen on the face of the Earth, ever again. Soon to be forgotten completely. 

It was a lovely night. Why did a stupid, little, fucking trigger have to screw him over so. Bloody. Badly. 

7:30pm. 

Everyone sat down, ready to watch whatever this “Horrible Histories” was. Most of them were sitting on the quilt on the floor with Alison and Mike, or up on the sofa in Julian, Fanny and his own case. 

For once, he wasn’t particularly ready for what was coming. 

He _definitely_ wasn’t expecting a song.

A good amount of confusion, a pissed-off comment of “WHY AM I TERRIBLE” from Humphrey, eight minutes and a lot of bugging Alison later, he, in Alison’s exact words, had the basic synopsis of Horrible Histories- a show where the producers went “hey what if we made a kids show but it was about history and it was strange and also the historical figures had technology and understood modern terminology. Oh and it’s also gory”. 

Within those past eight minutes, exactly (according to Alison) two “sketches” had been played- one about Caveman Art using iron ores (where Robin had a lot to contribute using his basic understanding of the English language and vague hand gestures), and another, where The Captain had been quite horrified to learn that Egyptians used lead makeup for things like eyeliner and eyeshadow, before remembering that women he used to know from the munitions factory dyed their hair blonde using TNT. At that moment, he was certain that his faith and belief in humanity that we’d gradually become smarter collectively left him. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he quickly turned his attention back to the television.

Looking back at the screen, he saw a fraction of the mummy that’d appeared earlier disappear again, bringing the Awful Egyptians title card with him. It immediately revealed a (seemingly) Egyptian man. Captain noticed something, after he got over the shock of the very loud “HI, I’M A SHOUTY MAN!”.

“Alison,” he started, “Isn’t this the same bloke who played that caveman in the first sketch?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Alison giggled, before nodding. 

“Jim Howick,” she said, laughing at the screen as the man- Jim- compared his hand to the mummy’s. The Captain couldn’t help but grin, even more so as he heard a chortle emerge from the people behind him, along with a comment from Kitty.

“He had just as much energy as Pat!” she said cheerily. Pat laughed, before responding with a “That he does, Kitty”. Out of the corner of his eye, the Captain saw Fanny laugh while shaking her head in agreement. His smile grew wider, and not just because of the warning label that came with the mummy.

Alison laughed. “Honestly the only advertiser I’d listen to,” she said out loud, mostly to the room, but mainly directing her words at Kitty and Pat. Mike laughed with his wife, throwing an arm around her shoulders. 

“Gotta love your local shouty man,” he exclaimed softly in response, getting a giggle to rise from Alison.

She lay her head on his shoulder, both of them cuddling in. The Captain softened, paying close attention to the happiness and excitement that was being propelled around the room. Pat and Kitty laughing together, Fanny smiling at the hilarity of the Shouty Man...god, if this was the beginning, he could not wait for the rest of the episode to proceed, seeing that they’d only been about 10-15 minutes in. 

“O! Tis’ mine own turns!” 

Everyone turned to face the television screen as Mary’s excited voice rang clear throughout the room. 

Sure enough, a Slimy Stuarts card had shown up on screen, where a rather nasal-sounding man showed up on screen. The man was a basic stuart- calling him a peasant wouldn’t make sense as his clothes dictated otherwise, but there wasn’t anything else to it.

“The man needs a visit to the doctor’s. Sounds like pneumonia’s got to him,” was the (unnecessary) comment that came from Julian. The Captain frowned. 

“Julian have you ever gotten pneumonia? Because that’s not what a pneumonia patient sounds like,” he jabbed at the Tory.

“Well that’s not my point you see,” he started, causing everyone to groan. Ignoring it, he continued, “My point is that the man sounds nasal and, I did study about biology in Cambridge, Captain, so I think I should know the symptoms,” he ended, with a pointed look at the Captain.

“Julian that wrong,” was the remark that came from Robin, “one time my sister got noomoneya an’ she” he continued, before starting to breathe heavily. As everyone looked on with only the Stuart “Doctor” giving directions to- what was bound to be dodgy- plague “cure”. 

“Ok Robin, thank you,” Alison said after about a minute of Robin doing...that. Robin grunted in response, one which was probably somewhere between kind of annoyed at Alison’s sarcasm and another emotion that the Captain couldn’t quite place; it was something he’d felt at some point, but not one that he’d felt recently. 

He pursed his lips together, deep in thought. 

Sister’s death...Memories...Emotion. . . . .

The Captain’s mind spun with various adjectives, all of which could be used to describe the mental state of someone who’s in pain, someone who’s hurt. 

Frustrated.

Shock.

Pain.

Hate.

Anger.

Disbelief.

…

The Captain was fuming. Had he been alive, this would have had his blood pressure rising, his head spinning. He eventually gave up, but his mind has simply set this concept aside, which was possibly, no, definitely, going to be pulled out later to be pondered on.

He slowly drew himself out from his silent ruminating to more silence around him. This silence was mostly caused by a confused and concerned Alison giving him the side-eye, as everyone else looked on. 

“Are you alright, Cap?” she questioned, concern generously layered in her voice. The Captain coughed, mumbling out his “i’m okay” reassurance. 

“Just thinking about old things. Carry on.”

The rest of them turned to the television, leaving Alison to linger on and try to find the truth hiding behind the old man’s eyes. Her search ended up being futile, as she reluctantly turned back to the TV. For once, there was silence…that was promptly broken once the Gorgeous Georgians screen flashed on.

Kitty flashed her signature grin of innocence, her excitement obvious. In contrast though, Thomas did not make a show of his excitement, but it was prevalent in the way a silent twinkle fell into his irises.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Kitty exclaimed, fiddling with her bows. Thomas chuckled in agreement, nodding his head. There was silence for a few minutes as the Georgian woman explained how makeup often led to death. Alison giggled; this scene. The millennials seated on the floor shared a giggle of secrecy, leading the rest to continue to listen and watch the hilarity that was bound to unfold in the form of

Stupid Deaths, Stupid Deaths

A loud groan came from about 5 of the dead people of the room, of which Fanny was the first to speak up.

“Why on Earth is this show making fun of dying?! It’s an ugly action that must be put to a stop at once!” She shrieked in annoyance. Alison made no noise as she turned around, silently pausing the television to respond. The Captain noted that Alison had clearly come up with a response prior to Lady B’s outburst. Smart approach, he thought to himself.

“Fanny, not every death is sombre and dark and sad and depressing,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “some of them are funny and silly and well, stupid.” 

Everyone turned to Fanny. She scowled visibly, unhappy with the direct “no” she was given when it came to such issues. She was very much unhappy with the way people were being mocked at for dying, but she did understand that deaths could be ridiculous, especially on reminder that a certain Tory MP had been a glorious example of that. She side-eyed Julian, who ended up giving her a very annoying and sly grin. She rolled her eyes, mumbling out a “fine”, only now more disgusted than annoyed. 

Alison turned back with a victorious smile perched on her lips, unpausing the episode.

In the next few minutes, The Captain learnt about the ill effects of being an idiot while using lead makeup. Amidst laughter, he really had to hand it to the producers and actors themselves. They had really brought history to life in the most comical ways, especially with the use of a very rude Death and stupid ways people died. He guffawed as the Georgian lady explained “more scars, more makeup”, until she died of lead poisoning.

“Idiocy at its finest, I say,” Julian said; he was laughing the hardest, compared to everyone else. Loud voices of agreement echoed throughout the room. 

“It was really stupid, wasn’t it. My sister once bought me some and told me to use it, but thankfully I only ever touched it once,” Kitty said, cheerful as a lark. The Captain squinted, now even more concerned about Kitty’s sister. He wondered if she had something to do with her death. He was sparked out of his dark thought by the same outraged Georgian woman, now shrieking about how Georgian men were just as, if not more, ridiculous than the women when it came to fashion. She pulled the screen with her revealing a rather plump Regency man.

The Captain watched as Thomas winced, presumably at the presence of the wig atop his head.

“I do not have much memory of the wig fashion, but from what I heard from my dearest mother and father, it was terrible,” Thomas started, a grimace on his face, “people would invest on the highest grade wigs, wear them once and never use them again.”

Most of the sketch passed without much incident, until a very fine looking man walked into the room. Had he been alive, the Captain’s cheeks would have turned a shade of red. The man was very easy on the eyes, and his hair was just...perfect. The Captain couldn’t look away. He was saved from any embarrassment, though, as his thoughts were perfectly enunciated by Kitty, who very excitedly asked Alison “oh my lord, who is that dashing knight”. Alion paused at the perfect angle at which you could see the man’s eyes twinkle. 

“Mathew Baynton. Almost everyone who’s watched even a minute of Horrible Histories has a HUGE crush on him,” she said, not peeling her eyes from the television. A completely understandable action.

“No kidding, he looks great,” Mike said, possibly hiding more praise about him inside. 

If he was being honest to himself, The Captain was only half paying attention to the remainder of the sketch, mostly looking at the gents on screen. Regency clothing rather suited them. At the same time, though, he had to admit that the premise that Regency men acted like teenage girls who’d just finished shopping at the closest supermarket was incredibly amusing.

The Captain was grinning openly; granted, it wasn’t a big smile, but a smile nonetheless. He had never been happier to be spending such a grand time with everyone in Button House after more than 40 years alone. To be so truly happy on the worst day of the year was truly a blessing.

The Captain’s happiness fell as the eras moved, from the Regency, all the way to World War One. He wasn’t sure what they would portray as funny in this, his mind swimming with memories from the trenches he’d seen. Listening closely to the voiceover, he realised they were simply displaying the complex hilarity of the long and winding trenches, making it impossible to get to your reporting officer in the first attempt. 

He laughed as a new soldier arrived at the Canadian section.

The Australian.

And then the South African. 

The Captain’s smile fell, as the phrase that he never wanted to hear again echoed through his head.

_God save the King._

The Captain was chilled to his bones, not expecting to hear that term ever again. He felt his throat dry, his fingers and arms shake like a palm in the breeze. His mind swum with the memories he’d made during his time with Havers, using that term over and over every time they’d parted, knowing they’d meet again. 

But to no avail. 

The Captain’s eyes prick with tears, as his mind deceives his heart, remembering the letter. The last letter he had _ever_ received from Havers, until his death, after the war. No correspondence, ever again. 

_God save the King, yours,_

_Lieutenant Havers_

The Captain didn’t remember anything from after that. No, all he remembered was the only close friend he had, and he daresay, he missed him. 

He missed the jokes.

He missed that smiling face.

He missed his hope.

He missed his bravery.

He missed everything about him.

Lieutenant Havers. The only man the Captain dared getting close to, knowing the capacity of his...love? Care? Concern? 

The Captain didn’t know what to do. He had no one to turn to to get out these feelings. He didn’t know how to release them safely, let go, and just savour the memory. He wanted to just spend time at the buried secret, underneath the soil. He wanted to just spend the quiet night alone with the secret.

Placing the word from earlier, his mind was drowning in sorrow.

“Captain?” was the careful voice that came, moments later. He didn’t have to guess to know that it was Alison, clearly wanting to drag him out of his misery.

“I apologise,” he mumbled, his conviction gone. 

Alison softened, knowing how to deal with Captain’s current unhappiness. “No, you have nothing to apologise for. I should have known that certain war memories would have been triggered by the sketch, and it was wrong of me to have played the episode without at least asking,” she said, her voice quiet. 

The Captain stayed quiet, just looking at the ground. 

“I suppose everyone’s making fun of me up there, aren’t they,” The Captain whispered, his misery taking over him completely. He knew his death day wasn’t something to count on. It never was. 

Alison looked at him with kind eyes. “Actually, they told me to get you. They’re all concerned.”

“You’re bluffing”

“Nope.”

The Captain looked at her skeptically, unsure if she was lying or not. Alison took this opportunity to continue,

“Captain, they don’t hate you. Of course, you can be bossy, demanding, and sometimes a little strict, but...well, nobody’s perfect Cap! These are the things that truly make you human. Everyone upstairs currently wants you to feel better, because you’re part of the Button family. And family looks out for each other,” she paused, before continuing, “if there’s ever anything, your family is here for you.”  
The Captain pondered on this quietly, a new realisation coming to him every second.

He did have a family.

It was loud, messy, annoying, crazy, funny, lovely, caring, and beautiful.

And he loved it with his heart.

His family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, i'm taking a short break! so basically, the GC au will still be updated, but no full length proper fics will be written and published anytime soon :'D i'll be back in late feb!


End file.
